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Pete frowned. “I haven’t noticed.”

“Shh . . . stop it please,” Indy hissed and glanced around. “Can we just focus on getting our ticket to the Laboratorio?” She whacked her ball and it went way off course rolling over the green lawn toward the enormous maze at the end of the landscaped gardens.

I was already a little buzzed on the champagne, so stood there like a dummy entranced by the way her long knit dress glided over all her lithe silhouette. She really did have a dancer’s body—all fine lines and gentle curves. I’d told her that once and she’d blushed. I adored making her blush when we were kids. Hell, I still did.

Diana veered off toward the maze and I jogged over to her, slipping my hand around her waist. For once she didn’t pull away. “Hey, let’s check out that maze later. Five bucks says I can find my way out of it before you can.”

“You know what?” She stopped and put her hand on her hips. “You are so going to owe me five bucks.”

I was struck again by how the green of her dress brought out the copper in her hair and the rose of her cheeks and lips that made her brown eyes into amber glass. Aware that I was staring, I slung my arm over her shoulder again deliberately pushing her off course.

“You’re in a better mood,” she said. I could tell she wasn’t convinced I was entirely over my earlier my freak out. “How many glasses of champagne have you had?”

“Just the one, but I haven’t eaten today, so . . .”

She snorted. “Am I supposed to believe that you didn’t have at least one of those biscotti you made me?”

“No, I exercised enormous restraint when I was boxing them up.” Then I remembered the test cookie. “I may have taken a bite out of one—just to test it. What kind of cook would I be if I didn’t test my own food?”

“You still like to cook, huh?” she asked.

“Sure, but it’s less fun when you’re cooking for one.”

“You don’t cook for many of your girlfriends then?” Indy nudged me with her shoulder.

“I don’t have girlfriends. Not anymore.”

“Not since Ashleigh?” she asked tossing a pebble into the water.

I was on the verge of admitting the truth to her—that I didn’t dare get too close with anyone because I couldn’t take the risk of losing them. In the first years after my breakup with Ashleigh, I did think it had something to do with her rejecting me. God, it had hurt, I’d wallowed in it for a few months. Hearing her voice though today, it didn’t punch me in the gut like I’d expected it to. It certainly hadn’t completely thrown me off course like running into Indy had.

“Nah, relationships are too complicated when you’re on the move all the time,” I lied. “I don’t want the women I date to get the wrong impression, so no, I don’t cook for them.”

“You just fuck them,” she stated so matter-of-factly that I choked. I wasn’t used to talking so frankly about sex with her. “That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me the details of your love life. I get it though. It must be hard after having been in love like that to want to do it again.”

“Uh, well, I guess.” If only that were the whole truth.

She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. “Are you cold?” I slipped off my jacket.

“I am not wearing your jacket, Levi.” Diana laughed and shook her head. Then her eyes snagged on my sweater. “Wait, are you wearing a cream cable knit sweater?”

“Is that a problem?” I asked as her fingers inched toward me. Her palm landed in the middle of my chest and I held my breath. I was suddenly acutely aware of every pounding beat of my heart. Since when did her simple touch have that effect on me?

“No.” She shook her head. “I mean yes. I just really love a cream cable knit sweater, and always I imagined you’d look amazing in one.”

“You imagined me in a chunky sweater?” I couldn’t tell her how I’d imagined her when we were younger. “Was I wearing pants?”

“What?” She looked at me like I was out of my mind.

“In your cable-knit fantasy,” I teased.

“It wasn’t a fantasy,” she corrected, taking her hand away. I wanted to grab it back and place it back on my chest. “Of course you had pants on.”

“Diana! Levi!” Signora Visconti and Helen Harris were waving at us. Everyone else had finished the game. They were waiting for us. I lined up our balls and whacked them hard in the direction of the wicket.

“God, I almost forgot,” Diana whispered as I slung my arm over her shoulder. “Signora Visconti asked if you’d give another dance lesson tomorrow afternoon.” Her mood darkened. “Ugh, I’m so sick of pretending. Sorry, Levi.”

“It’s almost over. And don’t worry, I won’t kiss you this time, I promise.” I was going for a teasing, reassuring tone, but from the way she lowered her eyes, I sensed I’d somehow put my foot in it again.